


Luciole

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Era, Combeferre Knows Everything, Dadfriend Bahorel, Dragons, Enjoldragon, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Momfriend Ferre, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-22 10:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16596515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Bahorel finds a baby dragon, Combeferre takes revenge for his books, and Enjolras is forced to take a year's vacation. All these things are connected.





	1. The Foundling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, I have no idea where I'm going with this, but I'm having fun with it. Prompt me in the comments or on [Tumblr](grumpymurdernerd.tumblr.com) if there's anything you want to see!

Bahorel was late. This was nothing to be concerned about.

Enjolras was also late. This was slightly more concerning, but still nothing worth panicking over.

Bahorel and Enjolras were late and it was the day after the summer solstice. Combeferre was damn near hysterical.

"They're probably fine," Courfeyrac said. "What could possibly be so wrong on such fine a day?"

"Allo!" Bahorel boomed, running up the stairs. "I apologize for my tardiness, but I - where's Enjolras?"

From the crook of Bahorel's elbow, blue eyes affixed to a scaly orange head stared imploringly at Combeferre.

Combeferre sighed and shook his head.

"Oh!" Prouvaire said, bouncing forward. "What have you got there?"

Bahorel grinned and revealed the tiny winged lizard, just larger than the two of his hands cupped together. "I believe I've found a dragon!"

"Let me see." Combeferre stood and walked over. "I have read about these things."

Enjolras - for the dragon was Enjolras - wiggled in excitement, no doubt hoping for deliverance.

"Ah, yes." Combeferre took the dragon from Bahorel's hands and held him close to his face. _"You've gotten yourself into this mess and you can get yourself out of it,"_ he hissed before turning him on his back and cradling him close. He made a show of counting the scales on his belly. "This is a dragon, and a sun dragon, I'd wager. Twenty-one, twenty-two years old, at that, why just an infant by dragon standards! Where did you find him?"

"Poor thing was stuck in the gutter," Bahorel tsked, shaking his head. "He looked so sad, and then when I walked by, he immediately perked up and started calling for me. I had to rescue him!"

Combeferre looked down at Enjolras and raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras huffed.

"Can't dragons turn human?" Prouvaire asked.

Combeferre nodded and pushed his spectacles up his nose. "They can, on summer solstice. That was last night. This dragon will be stuck as a hatchling for a year now, I believe."

"No matter," Bahorel said, taking him back gently. "He is in my charge now. A dragon infant will be much easier to care for than a human one, I wager." He paused. "What do you feed a dragon?"

Combeferre shrugged. "Morsels of meat, bread, and cheese. And to drink, water or cream will do. Perhaps a drop of wine if he has trouble sleeping, but only as a last resort. The most important thing will be to keep him warm."

"Easy enough." Bahorel unbuttoned his waistcoat and placed the dragon inside, right next to his heart.

Enjolras looked up mournfully, betrayed.

"What will you name him?" Combeferre asked, suddenly remembering the book that had been destroyed during last year's solstice.

Enjolras whined.

Bahorel shushed him and cooed at him, stroking the top of his head with one finger. "Luciole, I think."

Prouvaire shook his head. "You can't name your dragon 'firefly', it's just insulting."

"Luciole is perfect, I think," Combeferre said, smiling just slightly wickedly.

"If you say so...."

Enjolras glared then sneezed, startling himself.

"Aww," everyone sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's some art if you'd like to see.](https://grumpymurdernerd.tumblr.com/post/180017942249/as-promised-a-baby-enjoldragon-and-a-daringly) :)


	2. The Curious Case of the Missing Buttons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bahorel has a problem and he asks Combeferre for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jsyk, Combeferre isn't being malicious, he just has a hard time remembering that Enjolras the 22yo Human, who is fully capable of being devious and terrible, is very different than Enjolras the Baby Dragon, who is a baby. Whereas, Bahorel doesn't know the dragon is Enjolras, so he's much more able to go "oh, baby dragon is acting like a baby because he's a baby".
> 
> Also, you can blame Bahorel at the end of this chapter for going off script and turning this into a Ferrehorel slow burn. It's still going to be primarily baby enjoldragon fluff, but I'll be doing that and also getting into Enjolras' backstory, which isn't very pretty. :/ So I've upped the rating to T, and I'll tag any warnings as soon as I know what they are. Right now, I'm still figuring it all out. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~This was supposed to be a cute fluff without plot side project, look at what you've done, Rel.~~

Combeferre was surprised to find a gamin at his door so early on a Wednesday morning - the one day he never had a single lecture. Even Enjolras acknowledged the need for a day of rest - if only a single day.

“Letter from a M. Bahorel?”

“Thank you,” Combeferre said, reaching into his purse to pay the postage. He quickly unfolded the letter.

‘My friend,’ it read, ‘I have a problem most urgent. Please meet me at home as soon as you possibly can. I would come to you, but… well, you will see.’

Combeferre sighed and slipped into his braces, reaching for the nearest waistcoat. Once he had his summer coat buttoned around him, he set off.

It didn’t take him long to reach Bahorel’s apartment, but he was quite shocked to find his friend in naught but his shirt, the neck unbuttoned to reveal his sternum.

“The buttons on all my clothes have vanished,” Bahorel muttered, gesturing to the mess strewn through both rooms with a sweep of his arm. “And now I cannot leave home!”

Enjolras trilled delightedly from the nearby table.

Combeferre narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Bahorel followed his gaze. “You don’t think darling Luciole had anything to do with it, do you? But he was so sweet with me last night!’

Combeferre glared at the dragon. ‘Sweet’ was the last word he would use to describe Enjolras in this form. ‘Impatient’, ‘short-tempered’, ‘petulant’, and ‘destructive’, certainly, but never anything approaching the word ‘sweet’. “Well,” he said trying to explain away what was clearly intentional, “I have read that dragon young, while certainly very intelligent, tend to be extremely needy as well.”

Enjolras spluttered flames.

Combeferre smiled patiently, disguising his glee as best as possible. “Perhaps he was afraid you would leave him behind. As I said last night, he is much too young to even be out of the nest. I haven’t the faintest clue how he came to Paris” (he did, of course, he did, Enjolras had told him everything) “but his last caregiver can’t have been kind.” That much was true and Enjolras would not appreciate it when all was revealed. He glanced apologetically at his friend. “He may have been abandoned previously. He may even have been purposefully stuck in the gutter in which you found him.”

Bahorel gave a great cry at that and swept the dragon into his arms. “Oh, never! You must believe me that I would never abandon you, my precious, precious little friend!” He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spines atop Enjolras’ head and Combeferre winced, waiting for claws and fire.

Enjolras looked Combeferre straight in the eye and purred, pressing himself closer to Bahorel, nuzzling his jaw and nibbling on the ends of his hair affectionately.

Bahorel giggled and spoke softly, mumbling praises and comfort.

Combeferre gaped. Apparently, he’d been replaced as Enjolras’ favorite human.

Enjolras smirked and sent out a wave of magick, returning his hoard of buttons back to where each one belonged. He yawned after that, tiny, forked pink tongue poking out gently as he curled up on Bahorel’s shoulder, immediately falling asleep.

No doubt removing buttons from every article of clothing in the apartment had made for a long night.

Bahorel cooed softly. “Poor thing just needed assurance, of course, I should’ve seen it.”

Combeferre closed his mouth and barely resisted rolling his eyes. “You certainly dote on him. It makes sense he wouldn’t want to leave you.” Enjolras would love anyone who let him get away with whatever he wanted.

The dragon sighed in his sleep and tugged the tip of his tail into his mouth, suckling.

Combeferre’s heart melted. Sometimes it was so easy to forget how young his friend really was.

Bahorel smiled softly. "Everyone deserves love, especially children, and especially children who have nothing else.”

Combeferre smiled and leaned against the table. “You will make a good father some day, my friend.”

Bahorel laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a sight? Me, surrounded by a gaggle of young ones I’ve adopted from the streets!” He sighed longingly. “Perhaps…. If we live through our revolution….” He smiled shyly through his lashes.

Combeferre found himself grinning back.

Bahorel blinked, shook his head, and glanced at the sleeping dragon on his shoulder. He reached up to tickle him, then thought better of it. “I should stay with him today.”

Combeferre nodded, taking the dismissal for what it was. “If I may make a suggestion?”

Bahorel looked up eagerly.

Combeferre winked. “You may also wish to put on trousers.”

Bahorel laughed loudly.

The two quickly devolved into shushing eachother over Enjolras’ head.

Combeferre never did end up leaving, and they spent the whole day talking about everything and nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think below and if you have any prompts for cute baby dragon shenanigans, lmk in the comments or come yell at me on [Tumblr](grumpymurdernerd.tumblr.com)! :D
> 
> [Art for this chapter can be found here.](https://grumpymurdernerd.tumblr.com/post/180144410479/heres-art-for-the-next-chapter-of-luciole) :)


	3. Beads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a dragon begins a hoard and the reader is given a peek into Bahorel's backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This timeskips ahead about a week.

Bahorel woke to high pitched whimpering. He yawned and sat up. “Luciole? Where are you, Luciole?”

The whimpering grew louder and it seemed to come from the nearby set of drawers.

Bahorel stumbled out of bed and threw open the drawers, finally finding his small friend huddled up in a nest of his shirts. “How did you get yourself in here?” he cooed, pulling him out and setting him on the shoulder.

Luciole rubbed his head along his jaw, still whimpering.

“Ah,” Bahorel said, glancing out his window at the sun. “I think I know.”

He pulled on his trousers and braces, not caring who saw him in shirtsleeves this early, and set off into the courtyard. He set down Luciole reasonably close to the waste heap and wandered off similarly close to relieve himself.

Luciole’s whimpers turned into full blown cries the moment he was out of sight.

Bahorel scrambled back to his side, cradling him close. “What’s wrong, dear one? I don’t know what I need to fix.”

Luciole continued to cry.

Bahorel trembled and went back to his rooms, setting the dragon down only briefly to take up proper clothing. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Let’s go see Combeferre again, he’ll know what to do.”

As they walked the dawn-lit streets, the dragon’s cried echoed off the cobblestones. Bahorel held him close, heart breaking for his dear little friend. Eventually, he arrived at Combeferre’s, the third time that week. “I hope he doesn’t mind being called on so often,” he murmured.

Combeferre answered the door still sleep-soft, squinting without his spectacles and hair flattened on one side. He waved Bahorel in quickly. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know! He locked himself in my drawers earlier, but nothing I say or do will comfort him!”

Combeferre frowned and reached for the dragon, running his hands down his sides, feeling for anything abnormal.

Luciole immediately quieted, looking up with watery eyes.

“It’s alright,” Combeferre said, though whether he was talking to Luciole or to Bahorel was unclear. He walked across the room to his own chest and pulled out a worn shirt. “Here,” he said, handing it to the other human.

Bahorel blinked, dumbfounded.

Combeferre sighed. “He’s hoarding the two of us. Put that in your drawers so he can smell me. I’ll bring you a new one in a week.”

“Oh,” Bahorel said, absentmindedly clutching at the shirt.

“He may be hoarding other things, as well,” Combeferre said, yawning. “You’ll have to be careful. He won’t understand yet that fruit rots or that we have spoons because we need them. I’d recommend encouraging him to start a hoard of something else – something easy to obtain more of and rather unobtrusive. River pebbles, or something like that.” He paused. “That’s actually an excellent idea. Take him rock hunting at the river’s edge, put his findings in a bowl of water, so he can see them still shiny.” He clicked his tongue. “Maybe not such an excellent idea, you would, eventually, need an entire cauldron.”

“Shiny, eh?” Bahorel asked.

He made his way home, whistling, shirt tucked under his arm. Along the way, he detoured to a small shop. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Paternoster! Are you open for business?”

A greying head poked out from the window. “Théodore Bahorel! I am now!” She unlocked the doors of the shop and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “I had almost hoped I wouldn’t see you again.” She gestured to the walls of hanging rosaries. “Where did you lose it this time?”

“I haven’t!” Bahorel protested. “Actually, I was wondering if I might purchase spare beads from you for my – ah, a little one I found – to play with.”

Mlle. Paternoster’s face softened. “You may.” She smiled and stooped behind a counter, pushing bits and bobbles into a square of paper. “With one condition,” she said as she tied it all together.

“Yes?” Bahorel asked.

She set a single decade rosary on the counter, made of glass beads. “You must teach the child to pray.”

Bahorel smiled, hiding a grimace. “Of course, Mademoiselle.”

When they returned home, he unwound the twine, Luciole watching closely. “Alright,” he said, looking down at the collection of wood, seeds, and glass. Mlle. Paternoster had even included a single mother of pearl bead, bless her heart. “I think that’s a decent start to a hoard, don’t you?”

Luciole’s eyes lit up and he hopped down, starting to sort and count each bead. One skittered away, and he pounced on it, dragging it back to its fellows.

Bahorel sighed and set the child’s rosary next to his own on the chest. What Mlle. didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

He shook his head and opened the drawer of his shirts, taking Combeferre’s out from under his arm.

Luciole whined from the bed.

“You’d rather sleep with me?” Bahorel asked. “I may crush you.”

Luciole paced around, bunching up the sheets before flopping down.

Bahorel chuckled. “Alright,” he said. He laid down, pulling the dragon and Combeferre’s shirt close to his chest. “We had quite the adventure tonight, didn’t we? A mid-morning nap couldn’t hurt.”

In short order, they were both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not intend for that to go the direction it did. I don't know if female paternosters who were independent like spinsters were a thing, historically, but I like the idea of it and she's probably not going to show up again, so I did it. Also, I'm not Catholic and will probably never be Catholic, but rosaries are beautiful, especially when so much work has been put in them.
> 
> Please review! Also, any thoughts about where the story could go next are welcome, because I know how I want it to end, but also, this is supposed to be at least 53 chapters, so.


	4. The Truth of the Matter Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The others start to wonder where Enjolras is. Combeferre tells a lie and a truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, there's plot!

Courfeyrac took to Luciole almost immediately. The two played absentmindedly as Combeferre tried to lead Les Amis.

Fey held a long feather and ran it all over the floor as Luciole pounced on it and gnawed on the end.

“Enjolras wants-ˮ

“Where is Enjolras?” Courfeyrac suddenly asked. Luciole squeaked and he hushed him. “I’ve not heard or seen him in two weeks. I’m beginning to worry.”

Combeferre sighed. “I recommended he spend some time in the country, for his health, it’s been waning of late. Of course, he decided to take this advice and use it to travel. He intends to visit the sites of recent revolutions and discuss with the people there. He’s of a mind to see Portugal, Spain, Sardinia, Sicily, Greece, Russia-ˮ

“Poland?” Feuilly almost looked hurt.

Jehan shook his head. “But he doesn’t speak any of the languages! Perhaps I could’ve been of some use to him.”

Bahorel frowned. “It’s unlike him to go without saying good-bye.”

Combeferre glanced at Luciole. “He was angry with me. His stubbornness isn’t exactly a surprise.”

Courfeyrac nodded. “Has he been sending you letters? Do you know when he will return?”

“A year, perhaps, if he follows through and visits every city.”

Distressed noises rose throughout the room.

Combeferre quelled them with a glance. “He trusts us to continue the work here, and when he returns, he’ll have new knowledge to further our goal. And while this isn’t what I meant, it will help with his health, please do not begrudge him that.”

“Never,” Joly said quietly. “We’re simply unused to being without him is all.”

In the corner, Grantaire seemed to droop.

Combeferre cleared his throat and stood straight. “We’ll manage. Let’s continue our meeting.”

Luciole hopped from lap to lap, Courfeyrac guessed he sensed their mood and wanted to cheer them up.

“Bahorel,” Combeferre called when they were finished. He swallowed. “I’d like to speak with you.”

No one had missed those two becoming closer. Courfeyrac grinned and tapped his nose. “I’ll take Luciole for the day. He needs dressing up.”

The dragon squawked.

 

* * *

 

“What’s the matter?” Bahorel asked, reaching out to touch Combeferre’s elbow.

Combeferre sighed and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. “Enjolras is going to kill me.”

Bahorel shook his head and crouched down in front of him. “No, you’re doing very well.”

“Not that.” Combeferre waved a hand in the air. “But since you’re his caregiver, you ought to know. Enjolras is Luciole.”

Bahorel stared, blinked, then laughed. “That’s excellent. I didn’t know you had such a joke in you!”

Combeferre shook his head and began counting off on his fingers. “He’s twenty-two years old. He’s got the largest amount of sun magic any mage has ever detected. He can change between human and dragon form on the summer solstice. Usually, I spend the day with him to make sure he won’t do anything stupid, but I had errands to run and he told me he’d be fine.”

Bahorel sat back heavily, leaning his elbows on the floor. “Alright, then. Who else knows?”

“No one. I wasn’t lying when I said his last caregiver wasn’t kind. He allowed me to rescue him, but he asked that I not tell anyone else. But we never saw something like this happening.”

Bahorel drummed his fingers on the floorboards, thinking hard. “Is it his regular self under there somewhere?”

“No.” Combeferre shook his head. “It’s hard to grasp, I know. When he’s human, he’s fully adult human, with only impressions of any time he spent as a dragon. When he’s dragon, he’s fully infant dragon, with only impressions of any time he spent as a human.” He sighed and straightened, scrubbing his face with his hands. “That lie I told isn’t going to stand for very long. I can’t-ˮ

Bahorel gently pried his hands away from his face. “I believe you. I’ll do what I can to help.” He rubbed his thumbs over Combeferre's knuckles, smiling reassuringly as their eyes met.

There was a knock on the door. “I’m coming in!” Courfeyrac called. He bounced inside, grinning, proudly sporting several deep scratches across his face. Luciole sat smug on his shoulder.

“What the hell?” Combeferre demanded, reaching for his doctor’s kit.

Courfeyrac smiled and handed the dragon to Bahorel. “I took him to the tailor. He didn’t much like it, but we’ve got him a few proud little outfits along the way. Such a fine young dragon must be appropriately clad.”

Combeferre was out of his seat in a second, grabbing Courfeyrac by his lapels. “Which tailor?” he demanded.

Courfeyrac frowned and stepped away. “A trustworthy one.”

“Don’t do it again,” Bahorel growled. “We don’t know who might be looking for a lost dragon or what their motives might be.”

Combeferre glanced at him, grateful for the suitable explanation.

“Right.” Courfeyrac bowed his head, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I won’t. But just wait until his livery comes in! It’ll all be worth it!”

Bahorel shook his head. “I’m not one to say no to a decent pair of clothes, but that was too risky even for me.”

Combeferre sighed and kicked a chair toward his friend. “Sit down. Let me dress those scratches.”

“I’ll take him home,” Bahorel said, cradling Lu – Enjolras – close to his chest. He paused at the door.

Combeferre smiled at him.

Bahorel smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! Don't forget, if there's anything you'd like to see, lmk in the comments or come yell at me on Tumblr [@grumpymurdernerd](grumpymurdernerd.tumblr.com).


	5. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we begin to see some effects of Enjolras' trauma and Bahorel sings a lullaby.

_Please don’t go. Please! Please!_

* * *

 

The sound of a dragon crying was much the same as the sound of a human baby crying.  Bahorel woke with a start, flailing around to find Enjolras.

After several terrifying seconds, he found him at the end of the bed, sleeping.

“Shhh,” he murmured, running a hand down the dragon’s back. He pulled him close to his chest, wrapping him in Combeferre’s shirt. “All is well,” he murmured. “I have you, you’re safe now. Shhh….”

Enjolras woke with a start, sinking needle-like teeth into the meat of Bahorel’s hand. Once he realized what he’d done, he fled to the other side of the room, trembling, whimpering, and trying to make himself smaller.

“It’s alright,” Bahorel said, reaching for the kit he kept in the dresser. “I’m a boxer, remember? I’m used to much worse injuries.” He smiled, close-lipped at his tiny, shivering leader. “I won’t hurt you for that, I understand.” He pulled on his trousers and went to the kitchen to fetch some food and water. “We’re awake now, though, aren’t we?” He filled a small dish with cut-up morsels and carried them back to the bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor and holding out some meat to Enjolras. “Go ahead, it’s alright.”

Enjolras leaned forward and sniffed daintily at the food before snatching it and retreating back to his corner.

“I wish I knew what it is that has you so scared,” Bahorel said softly. “I would like to be able to help.” He tilted his head in thought. “I’ve a feeling it has something to do with what Combeferre said about you being much too young to even be out of the nest. Where is your mother, little fledgling?”

Enjolras blinked large eyes at him, then carefully slunk forward, sitting right up against Bahorel’s thigh.

“Gone?”

Enjolras shivered.

“I’m sorry,” Bahorel murmured, running a gentle hand over his back. “My mother’s far away now. I miss her terribly. I can’t imagine….”

The dragon began crying again.

“Here.” Bahorel picked him up and placed him over his heart again. “I’m here. You’re not alone. You’re safe. I won’t leave you.” He huffed and smiled. “Even when you’re human again, you’ll be hard pressed to get rid of me.”

Carefully, ever so carefully, he stood and walked back to the bed.

He frowned and wiped the goopy tears from Enjolras’ eyes.

The dragon hiccupped, a single spark flying from his mouth.

Bahorel chuckled.

Enjolras whined.

“I’m sorry,” Bahorel said, stroking the crest at the top of his head. “I can’t help you with this.” He chuckled as the dragon hiccupped again. “We’ll just have to weather it out.” He rummaged through the sheets for Combeferre’s shirt, swaddling Enjolras tight. “They’ll go away.”

Enjolras sniffled as his tiny body was shaken with the force of another hiccup.

Bahorel clicked his tongue in sympathy and began rocking him, singing softly.

_"Au clair de la lune,_  
_Mon ami Pierrot,_  
_Prête-moi ta plume_  
_Pour écrire un mot._  
_Ma chandelle est morte,_  
_Je n'ai plus de feu._  
_Ouvre-moi ta porte_  
_Pour l'amour de Dieu."_

Slowly, Enjolras began to breathe properly, gradually falling asleep.

“I have you,” Bahorel murmured.

* * *

_The eggshell was soft, and the fledgling pushed through it, nose first._

_His eyes were closed, the world was black. But he could smell his brothers and sisters nearby, and he cried out for them._

_No one answered._

_There was a great_ whuff _, and someone else came close._

_Mother! Mother was here!_

_He cooed, face splitting in a smile._

_Mother pushed him over harshly with her snout, sniffing him._

_He didn’t understand._

_Mother growled._

_Mother left._

_He cried._

_Mother didn't come back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten the rough sketch of Enjolras' backstory, but there are some details that need to be filled out. What happened here I've narrowed down to three options.   
> 1) The other eggs were destroyed and the mother dragon abandoned Enjolras because of grief.  
> 2) Some dragons just don't have maternal instincts, and since they lack as much emotional intelligence when they're in reptile form, a mother dragon may sit an egg due to biological imperative, and then abandon the fledgling out of sheer confusion once it hatches, which is what I originally intended, but doesn't explain the siblings I mentioned (which are important later).  
> 3) Enjolras was the runt. The others hatched earlier and stronger, and mom had her hands full. She couldn't handle another.  
> Since Enjolras was so young when it happened, he doesn't know, so it's up to you.
> 
> The song Bahorel sings is _La claire de la lune_ , a French folk song written in the 18th century, and it was the least creepy French lullaby I could find (it's about a guy looking for a candle from his neighbors).
> 
> Please review!


End file.
